


Good Things

by bibliomaniac



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Begging, Blow Jobs, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has a Vagina, Cunnilingus, Desperation, Face-Fucking, Finger Sucking, Fucking Machines, LOOK THEY'RE IN LOVE AND THEY HAVE KINKY SEX OK, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Fixation, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Spitroasting, Teasing, Telepathic Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, i...think that's..........everything, oof here we go ok, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 03:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17399168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliomaniac/pseuds/bibliomaniac
Summary: Sometimes when you wait, real good things come to you—or, well, with you. Things like your boyfriend riding a Sybian with a perfect replica of your other boyfriend's dick attached for three hours while he can't come. Things like getting to eat him out and fuck him after all that.You know. Just real good things.((aka some kinky rk800hk1700--that is to say, connor's a robot, hank's a robot, henry's his 900 edition and also a robot--and then also, Emotions. because that's how i do. always.))





	Good Things

**Author's Note:**

> in this fic i can't think of too many cws! it's mostly sex, and a lot of it. i will note that connor has a vaginal attachment and it is stated that they all have interchangeable genitalia and make use of that. everybody uses masculine terms (dick, hole, entrance are the majority of it) for this part. if you anticipate this causing any problems for you, please don't read this or be very careful about it! 
> 
> oh there is also one VERY quick blink-and-you'll miss it reference to what could be interpreted as a facet of daddy kink, but it's not overt or anything. other than that there's some d/s--pretty light stuff though--and connor's orgasm is controlled by hank and henry, but he has consented to everything prior to the events of this and consents during as well.
> 
> anyway....Here Goes

Hank knows that good things come to those who wait. He waited for years, after all, forgotten in storage, driven halfway to deviancy by the boredom alone, but on the other end there was Connor, deviancy, the revolution, Henry, his whole life ahead of him. He knows that when he is patient and waits for precisely the right moment to make precisely the right move, he will be rewarded.

The issue at present is not that he is not aware of this, however. It's that he knows _exactly_  the good thing on the other end of this wait, and knowing it's there, close but just slightly out of reach, is absolutely excruciating. His fingers started tapping slowly at his knee at the hour mark. At two hours, his left foot had began to bounce impatiently against the ground as well. One minute prior to what will be three hours since they began this endeavor, he's standing outside the door to their bedroom, struggling not to just throw the door open right this second and be done with it, damn three hours exactly and damn it all. He knows what's in there and he _wants_  it and it's ridiculous that something as silly as a paltry thirty-nine seconds is what's keeping him from it.

But Henry would be displeased if it weren't three hours exactly, and if he's displeased all of this won't be as fun, so Hank waits the goddamn thirty-nine seconds, and then he turns the knob and reactivates his auditory receptors and enters the room.

Immediately, the subroutine that directs the flow of thirium to his genital attachment activates, and he has to cut off a process threatening to make him moan, because _oh,_  he's been imagining this for the past three hours or longer, but this is already _so_  much better than he could have anticipated. Connor's eyes are unfocused even as they drag to the door to look at him, and he seems to have no qualms about moaning when he sees Hank. But then, Hank can't really be certain whether that's because of Hank or because of the way the Sybian, fitted with a perfect replica of Henry's cock, circles relentlessly in Connor's entrance, which is gaping and twitching irregularly and so, so very wet.

Okay, Hank takes it back. This was absolutely worth waiting for.

"Oh, darling," he murmurs, half-hard and shrugging out of his cardigan, then his slacks. His shirt and boxers will go later; there's an order to these things, at least when Henry's in charge. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

"Hank," Connor says, slurred and almost incoherent with static. They'll probably have to do repairs on his speaker again after this, but Hank can't bring himself to mind, not when he sounds so utterly fucked out and beautiful doing it. "Hank, please, _please."_

Henry, sat in the armchair in the corner and reading—probably not actually, Hank can see at a glance that he's not substantially further in his book than he was when Hank left the room, and he's halfway to a full erection himself—flicks his eyes up dismissively. An act, of course, but a good one. "He keeps saying that, but he's not been very forthcoming with clarification."

Another moan rattles its way out from Connor. " _Please,"_  he begs, "It's been three hours, I know it's—"

Hank walks forward, only a few strides away, and brushes his fingers against Connor's cheek, gently shushing him. He can feel the slight tackiness of dried tears there. "Shh, honey, we'll take care of you, I promise. Just wait a little longer, all right? We're going to take such good care of you."

Connor nods against his fingers, but tears start anew in the corner of his eyes, and Hank gently swipes at it with his thumb and licks it from there, smiling with a calm he absolutely is not feeling at how Connor tracks the flicker of his tongue and parts his own lips, wanting. Adorable. Hank is absolutely the luckiest deviant bastard out there, he thinks, idly passing along the thought to Henry.

 _Are you now?_  Henry thinks back at him, amused and unable to hide his arousal like this. His voice is deep and rich and so low Hank almost thinks he can feel it vibrate through his neural network. _Because I got to see him this whole time._

 _Mm, true. We all know your self-control is better than mine._ When Connor had first brought this scenario up—him, on a Sybian but with the program active that keeps him from coming before they give their joint permission—they had discussed the finer points for a while, and this had been one of the ones brought up. Hank may be fairly good at waiting compared to the average person, but he thinks he would've jumped Connor a long time ago regardless. 

_Next time we can switch. Or perhaps you can take Connor's place?_

Hank snorts, trying and failing to suppress the simulated blush rising to his cheeks as he unfastens his cufflinks and sets them on their nightstand. _Perhaps. We can discuss it later._

Henry purrs happily over their mental link. _Excellent._ A slight pause, then,  _Connor isn't the only reason I'm the luckiest one here, you know._

Emotions are still difficult for Henry to discuss outright, and Hank always appreciates the effort. He sends waves of gratitude and affection and feels them reflected at him, and he smiles at his hands while they unbutton his overshirt. _Come, now. We have something to attend to, I think._

 _Don't tell me to come, this is hard enough,_  Henry jokes on a deadpan, eyes flicking pointedly down to his erection. Humor isn't always his strong point, but his innuendo is surprisingly good; Hank cracks a grin despite himself and finishes taking off his overshirt, dropping it to the ground to leave him in a tanktop that Connor says makes his biceps look devastating.

Connor, meanwhile, is clearly making a concerted effort at patience, but the Sybian is still rotating Henry's cock inside him and has been continuously for the past three hours, and if he rests his pelvis down on the machine the vibrations from the ridge are right against his dick. A wicked little machine, really, and Hank can't blame Connor for the little aborted thrusts back and forth and down onto the ridge, for how his mouth is open and panting, occasionally forming unspoken words. _Hank,_  he thinks, and _Henry,_  and _please,_  and it's almost as sweet in silence as it is to hear.

Almost, but of course, not quite. He smiles at Connor, and then over at Henry. "He's being so good for us, Henry, don't you think he deserves some attention now?"

Henry hums thoughtfully over the sound of Connor's keening as he reflexively, roughly, jerks forward. Connor has a thing for being praised, and it's one of Hank's favorite things to take advantage of in the bedroom. It nets them some wonderful reactions and has the added benefit of letting Hank go on about everything he loves about his boyfriend. 

 _You could stand to be more receptive to praise,_  he tells Henry idly. _Not a criticism. Just a thought._

 _You could stand to concentrate,_ Henry shoots back, a little bit bristly with what Hank thinks might be embarrassment,  _and that is a criticism._

_Sir, yes, sir._

Henry's eyes narrow, but there's a playful glint to them when he says, _Wrong scene, but I won't complain. Now._  He stands up from his chair, finally, closing his book with a calculated _snap_  and setting it down on the chair behind him. Hank can't help but admire the fluidity of his movements; as an older model, and not one that was kept up very carefully, he can't quite manage it. Henry's every movement is graceful, and Hank telegraphs his appreciation over their link with a mental wink tacked on at the end for flavor.

 _Brat._  But with Connor not presently able to see him out of anything other than his peripheral vision, he still allows his gaze to soften for Hank before getting back to business. Henry walks, slowly, deliberately enough that he knows Connor will be able to hear it, to rest a single, possessive hand on the back of Connor's neck. Connor's eyes flutter shut as he lowers his head back into Henry's grip.

"Henry," he breathes, almost reverent, and Hank takes advantage of his distraction to pad towards Connor until he's standing in front of where they've set up the machine. "Henry," Connor continues, opening his eyes now to look beseechingly up at him, " _Henry_ , I need—"

"You need...?" Henry interrupts, a hint of disapproval edging his voice. "Don't you trust us to give you what you need, Connor?"

Connor's face falls a bit, and Hank can't help but reach a hand to smooth along his shoulder, comforting, opening a brief link to send comfort. Henry's nose wrinkles, but he permits it. When Connor is this deep in a scene, he takes perceived criticism harshly. "Of course. Of course I do, Henry, sir, just—" He bites his lip and tries again. "I want?"

Henry smiles. Subtle, but there. A reward. "Good, Connor. What is it you want?"

They all already know the answer, but Connor gives it anyway, sighing as Henry traces a fingernail around the access port in his neck (not today, but they've certainly done it enough for Connor to have positive associations). "To. To come, sir, I'd like to come."

"Thank you for telling me, Connor." Henry presses a kiss into Connor's hairline, and Connor's responding smile is too sweet for the situation they're in, really, but Hank would probably do the same. "You're being such a good boy for me. For us," he amends. "And as Hank promised, we'll be sure to reward that. Trust us to give you both what you want _and_  need, hmm?"

Connor is already nodding fervently before Henry's even done talking. "Yes, yes, of course, I promise, I trust you, I love you both so much—"

"Love you too, sweetheart," Hank murmurs, raising one of the hands Connor's using to support himself and kissing the knuckles, then the palm. It may have the added side effect of jolting him down a bit further onto the Sybian, grazing his dick against the vibrating ridge, but. Well. He can love Connor and still love the shocked gasp that Connor makes when he does it, too. 

"Thank you, darling," Henry says, and adds to Hank, _Don't think you got away without me noticing that._

 _I didn't expect to._  His wink this time is very much external. "Baby, let's get you off this, hm? Get you nice and cleaned up before we give you our cocks."

Connor's eyes widen, and Hank pauses with his hand on Connor's hip, opening up a three-way connection. _Con, babe, are you okay with that? With us eating you out first? If it's too much_ —

Connor's voice is just as wrecked over the connection as it is out loud, though without the static. Breathless, high-pitched, fucked-out, _beautiful._  The last word floats across the connection unbidden, and Connor makes a small noise in his throat even as he says, _Not a negative reaction. My safeword is Amanda, I can tap out or initiate a connection whenever, I trust you both, get on me right now or I swear I will die just to prove a point._

Henry's chuckle floats across their link. _This isn't in-character at all. You're lucky I'm so fond of both of you. Shall we continue?_

"Please," Connor says out loud, reaching forward to Hank and grasping at the front of his tanktop, then his bicep. "Please, please, I've been good, I'll be so good, please please just touch me—"

Hank lifts Connor up by the ass to pick him up and bring him close; Connor whines as the dildo exits him and Hank soothes him by kissing him properly on the mouth this time. He tries to keep it gentle, but feeling Connor's hands dig up into his hair like it's anchoring him to this world, hearing the noises he's making, feeling the clumsy desperation in how his lips move, feeling Connor's wetness seeping into his shirt where they're connected...well, like he said, his self-control isn't great. He growls and kisses with all the fire he's feeling, forceful and intense, while he walks them the short distance over to the bed and tumbles down onto it with Connor, moving down to his neck and nipping, sucking, lapping until Connor is writhing under him.

The bed dips as Henry sits on it, now free of his waistcoat and working at his pants, and it reminds Hank to separate from Connor for a moment to take off his tanktop before he resumes his path down Connor's bare chest. Connor grabs at his hair and whimpers when he bypasses his nipples entirely, but Hank just chuckles and keeps going, lapping at the sweat that's collected over the flat of Connor's belly. Checking quickly on Henry's progress—he's unbuttoning his shirt—Hank occupies himself by biting at Connor's hipbones. Close to where Connor wants him, but not close enough.

"Why, Hank," Henry's voice comes, and he _tsks_  disapprovingly. "I thought we agreed Connor had been good? It seems to me like you're teasing."

Hank looks up at him and presses the curl of a smirk to Connor's inner thigh. "I thought it would be polite to wait for you. Sir."

He raises one eyebrow, slow, unimpressed. "Politeness was your motivation. Really."

"Isn't it always?"

Henry's lips press together, and he maneuvers Connor so his head is on his lap, stroking at his hair delicately. "You're testing me deliberately today, Hank, and if today were about you I'd punish you for that properly." He leans over to drop a kiss on Connor's forehead; Connor hums and pushes up into the contact, a bit calmer now without any direct stimulation. "But today is not about you. So...hm. How about you clean up our boy as promised, but other than with your mouth, you are not to touch him until we continue." His hand strokes down to Connor's chest, over one nipple, the movement almost possessive. "I'll take care of the touching, since you've shown yourself to be...easily distractable."

Hank bows his head, less chagrined because of Henry's disappointment and more because he really is starting to feel a bit bad about prolonging this for Connor longer than necessary. "Of course. Sorry, baby, I didn't mean to lose track of the objective or anything." He kisses the air above Connor's thigh; technically allowed. "Let me make it up to you?"

Connor's nod becomes a jerk of his head as Hank dives in without any further warning, licking a long stripe over his entrance. He makes a pleased rumbling noise at the first rush of Connor's cum on his tongue and digs in further: along his folds, a dip between. When he makes his way to Connor's dick, kissing and then sucking it into his mouth, Connor inhales sharply, his hand flying up to his mouth so he can bite down on his clenched fist.

Hank hears Henry murmuring, "Oh, sweetheart, do you need something in your mouth? Wouldn't my fingers be nicer?"

"Yes, please, thank you sir, please sir, I—" He groans around what must be Henry's fingers, and if Hank hadn't already been reprimanded for getting distracted and if he didn't love eating Connor out so much, he'd be looking up just to see how beautiful he looks like that. His oral fixation is a gift to them all. As it stands, he redoubles his efforts, flicking his tongue rapidly against Connor's dick before bringing it back between his lips.

The continuous stream of sounds from Connor's mouth grows louder and more insistent, and he starts to thrust his hips against Hank's mouth. God, he loves it when Connor starts letting go for real like this, taking what he wants from Hank, squeezing his thighs around his head so he's locked in and can't move. He wouldn't dream of it anyway.

"Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease," Connor chants on a loop broken only by the crackling of static. Hank can tell from the way the sound moves from one receptor to the other that he's tossing his head back and forth, and from the sound of wet kisses and licks that Henry is at Connor's neck. He's always been fond of it. "Please, _please,_  I want to come, please, oh my God, fuck me please—"

"Hank? You can use your fingers, but only to open him up."

Hank obediently gets his hand underneath Connor's legs so that he can maneuver his index finger into his entrance while he continues work on his dick. Connor sounds like he might be crying again. "I can't—I'm ready, _please_  sir—"

Henry's one to talk about teasing Connor; Connor was bouncing on his dick for three hours before they got to the bed, so there's no way he's not ready without prep. But then, Henry has a mild penchant for sadism. "You can do it, darling, you can be good a while longer," he soothes as Hank puts in his middle finger, then stretches them apart in either direction, idly curling them forwards until he hears Connor wail. "Connor, you sound so lovely right now, so very perfect for us, you know that? Not a single care for who might hear you, for all the neighbors who might know now that we're making love."

Hank smiles inwardly. Henry only ever calls it making love, even with the elaborate scenes like this. Hank thinks it's one of his ways of expressing that he loves them even though those words by themselves are hard for him to get out. It's charming, and he opens their mental link quickly to express the sentiment.

 _Hush, you,_  Henry responds, definitely embarrassed this time. _We're moving on, prepare yourself._

_What, are you gonna fuck me too?_

_I said hush and I meant it!_

_I know. Sorry._  He's not, and Henry probably knows that, but Henry won't like it if he keeps riling him up like this. Even if it's fun. (Maybe he has a mild penchant for sadism too, when it comes to it, but he mostly just likes being able to fluster Henry.) 

"Hank, you may stop now." Hank sucks Connor's dick one last time, then raises his head to see Connor, who licks his lips hungrily at seeing Hank's beard covered in his cum. 

_Can I kiss him?_

_You haven't even kissed me yet._

_We can change that,_  Hank points out. _Can I kiss him?_

_Fine._

Hank surges forward, but for Henry. Henry isn't expecting it; his eyes widen minutely, but then he relaxes into the kiss, molding it into something controlling and filthy, tasting Connor's cum from Hank's lips. His hand goes to Hank's hair and tugs him backwards, but his breathing is a bit heavier, so Hank counts it as a success.

"Hank," Connor whines, reaching out to him again, and Hank leans over to kiss him too—slow, but passionate, and when he draws back he drags Connor's lower lip between his teeth just to hear the breathy moan that comes from deep in his throat.

"Do we get to fuck him now?" Hank asks, low, staring into Connor's eyes, carding his fingers through Connor's hair. "I'll even say please. If you want. Sir."

"Cheeky," Henry mutters, frowning. "But yes, I think we've made him wait long enough. He certainly deserves his reward."

Hank grins and taps at Henry's undershirt, then moves to pull his boxers down and throw them somewhere in the room. Even after all this time together, even with their sizable and growing collection of interchangeable genital components, Connor still makes the cutest noises when he sees Hank like this, and Henry too. Hank groans at hearing it. "Oh, honey, we're going to make this so good for you," he promises roughly, pressing a kiss to the furrow of his brow because it's the first patch of skin he can reach. "Do you see how hard I am for you?"

He checks Henry, only to see him watching them with a gaze that might look impassive to anyone else, but Hank knows him too well. He's not too far from breaking. He's also naked, so that would give him away anyway, Hank supposes. "How hard _we_  are for you? You're just too good, baby, just too perfect, we'd never be able to help ourselves. Hearing you." A kiss to the tip of Connor's ear, a delicate nip over the shell. "Seeing you." A kiss to the corner of his eye. "Tasting you." Back to his mouth, and he laps into it with purpose, relishing in the little noises from Connor's throat, in how the desperation they both feel renders the kiss messy and uncoordinated. "Feeling you," he adds, voice dropping to a growl. He grinds slowly against Connor's crotch, bare skin to bare skin, and Connor's head tosses to the side. The fading light from the window hits the remnants—or beginnings, perhaps—of tears in the corner of his eyes. "Everything about you is beautiful. How could we not want you? How could we ever not love you?"

"Hank," Connor whispers weakly, "Henry, please. It's been so long. I'm so wet for you both, I've been so good, I want—" He gives the tiniest shake of his head. "I _need_  you both."

And, well, even Henry can't argue with that. "Do you want me in your mouth or hole?" Henry asks brusquely. It won't matter too much, eventually, but he always feels it polite to ask. 

"Either, just—" Connor starts to beg, but seems to conclude quickly and correctly that they won't continue until he's expressed a preference. "Mouth, please, _please_ —"

Hank is already in action, positioning Connor on his side and moving behind him to press his chest to Connor's back. Henry nods in approval and also gets on his side with his cock near Connor's mouth. "Ready?" he asks, which is a redundant question, but Connor's an angel and doesn't call him on it. He just whines and moves his head closer to Henry's cock, and Henry looks at Hank over Connor and, through the link, says, _Count of three?_

_I think he cares so much less about the 'simultaneous' thing than you do._

_Well, I do care about it. Three or would you prefer to discuss my idiosyncrasies for another few hours?_

_Three's fine. And sorry, I don't want to poke any fun that would hurt your feelings._  It's a genuine apology this time; Hank teases both of them on occasion, but he never wants to go far enough to cause them pain.

_...Apology accepted. One. Two. Three._

On the count, Hank and Henry both push in, Hank into Connor's entrance and Henry into Connor's mouth. Connor's yell is muffled around Henry's cock, but the sound Hank makes is muffled too, from him biting into Connor's shoulder, so a complaint would be hypocritical. And he can't concentrate on much right now anyway other than how amazing it feels to finally be inside Connor, warm and tight and feeling like he's made just for him. He's been attempting to suppress his arousal as much as possible so he can concentrate on the scene without getting too into things, but all that flies out the window now. 

"Connor," he ekes out, kissing where he bit and down his arm and wherever else he can reach, "Connor, _God,_  you feel—" He pulls the slightest bit out and slides home again. " _Fuck,_  fuck, Con, baby, sweetheart, you feel _so_  good."

 _Move, move, please fucking move,_  Connor says over their link, _Please, please, Hank, Hank, fuck me_ —

 _I'd do anything for you, baby boy, but this one I'll do with pleasure._  He peeks at Henry and he nods, biting his lip; he presumes he's gotten the same edict. He holds up his fingers.

One, two, three.

They both start thrusting at the same time, and Hank gasps, resting his forehead against Connor's back, his hands against his hips and then down to his dick to rub it in tandem. Everything is building, building, almost higher than he thinks he can manage; the electrical signals that make up everything in him are clustering at the base of his pelvis, sending a response back up to his overtaxed central processor, coming in waves that move ever closer and tingle in his legs and up his spine. "Connor," he breathes against his skin, sucking marks into his neck that blush blue for the barest moment and then fade to be replaced by him again, "Connor, Connor—"

And then Henry's hand is reaching down to his face, because his hand is busy at the moment, thanks, and opening an interface request. He accepts it and is immediately bowled over by the rush of data, _the feeling of Connor's mouth around his cock, hotwarmwetperfect, so good so good Connor, he's so good he's so good I don't deserve_ —

Hank sends back a data packet of his own, insistent, _how it feels to be swallowed up by him, tightwarmwonderfulperfectperfectboy, Connor so perfect, he's perfect and you're perfect and I love him and I love you, I love you both so much I'm so lucky I love you I love you_ —

 _Me too I promise I promise I do_ —and Hank feels Henry's love even if he can't say it, so warm and beautiful and bright, and they ping their feelings back to each other in a cycle until they're magnified to such a degree that Hank feels too full of feeling to know how to exist. The feeling of Connor around him combined with the phantom of his mouth, the sound of Connor sobbing from between them, the slick of Connor as he rubs at his dick, how Henry's face is contorted in pleasure, how much he loves them both, it's too much, too much, he wasn't built to take this _much_ —

But what he thought was too much is _nothing,_ because then Connor sends an interface request to them both, and he accepts.

Suddenly, Hank is there on the Sybian, kept there for three hours on a replica of the dick of his partner, vibrating and moving in him but he can't come he can't come he _needs_  to come he's so tired he's so exhausted but he knows they'll take care of him he knows it'll be good but God the electricity everywhere in his legs that won't go away is so much, so much, he just wants to come and to be good and—

And then he's there on the bed with his own mouth on him and Henry's at his nipples and his neck and smoothing over his arm and it's everything again, electricity only ever compounded and never lost, building past the point he thought he could reach—

And then he's here, now, with his boyfriend's cock in his mouth activating all of the sensors with continuous streams of junk data that slow down his processing to nothing, with his other boyfriend fucking him fast and rough and working at his dick, and there's so much electricity he fears it will burn him out, crackling in every tip of his body, in his fingers and in his curling toes and in his blown-out speaker and his head and his spine and his hole and his dick and in _everywhere,_  down to the very last sliver of his circuitry, he's filled with it and he can't take it but he knows, he _knows_  they'll take care of him, he trusts them so much, he knows how much they care, they love him, and he loves them oh God he loves them more than anything, engraved into his being and immutable and that love is infused with all that electricity and it's so strong but _God_  he _needs_  to come he _needs needs needs needs needs needs_ —

Everything circles between them in an impossible feedback loop until it becomes more than they or anyone could possibly comprehend, too much data and too much feeling and too much love to be held anywhere, and Hank and Henry are barely coherent enough to issue the permission-command that will allow Connor to come, but they do.

It seems to happen all in an instant and forever at the same time. Burning white pleasure sears through him and them together and pings around their consciousness in powerful shocks, overwhelming their processors, and Hank is coming and coming and Henry is too and Connor is _screaming_  and gushing fluid all over the sheets and then—

And then, well, nothing.

When Hank comes back online, it's dark. At least an hour must have passed, he guesses and then verifies against his internal clock, and the sun has set and the lights inside have all blown out.

"We'll have to replace them again," Henry says wearily from where he's laying, staring up at the ceiling. Damn faster recovery time for newer models, but when he reaches to where he's still holding Connor, he's still out. "I think he'll take a while longer. It was very intense for him."

"Have devastating orgasms always made you this inclined towards stating the obvious?" Hank grumbles, nuzzling into Connor anyway, but there's no bite to it. He always gets a bit grumpy after a forced reboot. "Sorry, sorry, that was rude."

"I get it." Henry's hand flops down on his hair twice in a vague approximation of a soothing pat, if that pat was given by a seal instead of a highly advanced piece of sapient technology. "We still have enough in our supply for this run, right?"

He probably already knows the answer, but Henry can get nervous about these things at times. He probably wouldn't call it nervousness, but he'd also be wrong. "Yeah, I upped our order after the last...incident."

They both wince. The late night run to the store, with all of them less presentably than might be socially acceptable and with Henry limping in a rather undignified way (the friction had worn through a small patch that shorted out one of his wires, and he doesn't like to talk about it, thank-you), had been more than enough to convince them to increase their stock of replacement lightbulbs and some other things that tend to be affected by some of their more adventurous bouts of sex. 

Connor comes to with a jerk and a sigh as he relaxes back into Hank's arms, making grabby hands at Henry to get him back down for hugs. He scooches down to sandwich Connor between them, and they kiss, and Connor turns around to kiss Hank too, and Hank drops one on Henry too to be equitable. Hank kisses Connor's back, neck, hair, and stops there, nuzzling at it, not really sure what to say.

Connor, precious, wonderful Connor, breaks the silence with a somewhat dazed but cheerful, "Well, holy shit."

Hank snorts and then starts laughing so hard it shakes his whole body where it's pressed against Connor's back. Even Henry grins wide for a moment before giving in and chuckling. Connor laughs along with them; his speakers are still making it a bit tinny, but they'll fix that after they can move again. 

"Yeah, can't really think of a better way to put it," Hank says, moving his chin to rest on Connor's shoulder and pecking the edge of where Henry's lips turn into a genuine smile. "Are you okay, sweetheart? We made things pretty rough on you, huh?"

"Oh, honey, don't worry. You didn't do anything I didn't specifically request." Connor kisses gently at his cheek. "I'm fine. The speaker, of course, and I'll need to replenish quite a bit of thirium to make up for the, ah...losses...and, I mean, I certainly can't do this every day."

"For the lightbulbs' sake," Henry mumbles. Hank can't tell whether it's intended to be a joke or not, but he smiles anyway and reaches across to caress his bicep.

"But it was good. You were both wonderful. I love you so much."

"God, baby, I love you too, you're..." He shakes his head. "Amazing, wonderful, perfect, gorgeous, sweet—"

"If you're trying to get me going again I don't think it'll work tonight," Connor says amusedly.

Hank wrinkles his nose at him. "Why don't you two let me compliment you? Let me compliment you."

"I do!" Connor protests, smiling fondly.

"Not enough!"

"How much is enough, pray tell?"

"All the time!"

Amidst their playful argument, it's almost easy to miss Henry whispering something. Almost. But they don't, neither of them—an advantage of having advanced hearing—and their heads both swivel to him.

"I love you," he'd said, out loud and simple.

Hank's smile is wide and terribly in love when he leans over Connor to kiss Henry soft and sweet and thankful. It's not the first time either of them have heard him say it, of course, but it's always a gift when he does.

"I love you too," he says when they part and Connor tilts his head up to take his turn. 

Honestly, as much as this experience had been, a part of him will probably always feel like he's too small to contain how he feels for Henry and Connor, his boyfriends, his blessings, his everything. He feels it threatening to overflow constantly, bubbling in him with no way to express it fully. But he tries, still, by complimenting them and trying to be what they want and then trying to be _better,_  growing into a better version of himself, maybe into a person more able to hold this love in.

Maybe. But he thinks not, and he's okay with that, really.

They lay there like that for a while longer, another one of those forever-moments that feels longer than it actually is, with them just together and talking softly about nothing and sometimes not talking at all, trading kisses and sweet words and caresses and basking in each other. There are things to be done and they'll do them—replacing the lights, fixing Connor's speaker, cleaning up (a _lot_  of cleaning up), picking up their adorable puppy Sumo from the neighbor they'd left her with. A far-away neighbor. Far enough that the neighbor couldn't possibly hear. They think she still knows.

There are things to be done, but for now they'll be here in their little part of eternity, cuddled on the bed and happy. After all, good things may come to those who wait, but sometimes they're just there right in front of you already.

**Author's Note:**

> -laughs nervously, backing away- i finally did it....i finally wrote a pwp........i'm only a little bit embarrassed about it.......
> 
> if you want to catch up with me elsewhere, i'm on tumblr (infrequently) as [anuninterestingperson](http://anuninterestingperson.tumblr.com) and on twitter (all the fucking time these days) as [@boringbibs](https://twitter.com/boringbibs)! thank you all for reading i love u all and ALSO HANKCON LOVES EACH OTHER ALWAYS AND EVERYWHERE thank u and goodnight


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